Focus
by cinderellathings
Summary: AU. Brittany has a hard time focusing. Because of that, her grades are slipping. But when she confronts her hard-ass rugby coach, Coach Lopez, to break the news, her coach has some unconventional ways of helping her focus.


**This was written mostly in 2013-my first fic ever-so forgive the fact that it's not well-written. Thought I'd post it anyways.**

Brittany closes her locker and makes her way down the hallways of the top floor of William McKinley High. People rushed past her, students and teachers, smiles plastered to their excited faces, ready for the long three weeks of winter vacation.

It was the Friday before the long, much needed break before all the finals and the end of the semester and, of course, the start of girls' rubgy season. The posters had been up around the school for weeks, reminding Brittany of this conversation that she had been dreading and putting off, but could not avoid any longer.

Maybe she could call instead. She could avoid the intense, angry glare that she had heard so much about from other players who'd had to have this very same conversation with one, Coach Lopez. But she decided against it as she stopped in front of the door to the classroom where her coach taught various freshman science classes, not daring enough to even lay a finger on the doorknob just yet. After a very brief, yet effective, mental pep talk, she took a deep breath and ventured forward into the room.

Coach Lopez looked up from her computer where, if Brittany really knew her as well as she thought, she was already doing some grading and planning for lessons to be taught months from now. Brittany studied the brunette woman's face. She had olive skin that, even with its dark complexion, seemed to glow under the fluorescent lighting of the room. She had long, dark hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back in the most perfect of waves. Brittany made note of the way the coach's eyebrows would scrunch up, pulling her glasses upward, which made Brittany need to relax herself when she saw the latina wearing, in the most perfectly unsettling way. She just took in all that was Coach Lopez. She was a very professional and poised, but still very intimidating, woman. Even so, Brittany hadn't been able to take her eyes off of her ever since she started as a student teacher for Brittany's biology class her freshman year. Man, how she'd love to run a few tests on that woman's body. Between being one of her first students two years ago and one of her star players on the rugby team, she and the coach had developed a sort of bond. She felt safe going to her about problems at home or in relationships or in friendships, and she loved to listen to the brunette talk about her day teaching and about her travels during college and really anything she could get the brunette to tell her. Some would even say that they were friends. Neither did, though. It didn't feel necessary.

Still, Brittany felt terrified standing in front of the latina. Every time she saw her, she felt like ripping her clothes off. She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls she'd ever seen, inside and out, despite the way other people perceived her. "Fucking bitch," and, "psychopath," seemed to be the most used descriptions of the older woman. Brittany, however, could call her nothing less than beautiful.

"Um, Brittany?" the woman's voice breaks her out of her thoughts. Good thing, too. They were headed in a direction that wasn't really appropriate for a 17 year old girl who's alone in a room with her rugby coach.

"Oh, um. H-hey, Coach Lopez," Brittany manages to stutter, "can we talk for a second?" She says looking down at her feet, completely missing the obvious leering from her coach. She looked back up to see her coach's eyes boring into hers, wondering why she was acting so strangely, before they settled, just giving Brittany a gentle, reassuring look.

"Sure, Britt," Coach Lopez finally says after what she realizes was a long silence. "Why don't you take a seat on one of the couches in the back? I'll be right with you." A very embarrassed Brittany makes her way to the back and settles into one of the leather couches, where all of the science teachers would sometimes have meetings. She guessed that they were all gone for their vacation already, thus, the privacy that she and the coach were granted.

Ah, the coach. Brittany flashes back to her first time meeting her. She remembers being so heartbroken over Sam Evans, the quarterback, who played way too many mind games for Brittany's liking. She remembers walking into her 7th period biology class and sitting at the back table with her friends, as usual, catching the slightest glimpse of brunette hair and dark, flawless skin sitting even further back in the corner. She was later introduced to the class as a student teacher (who would later become a regular teacher) and when she spoke, Brittany swore she'd never heard anything sound so angelic in her life. That sexy Spanish accent tagging along with the impossibly heart-stopping way she walked to the front of the room in her heels almost sent Brittany over several edges right then and there. Sam who?

In her reminiscent thoughts, Brittany didn't seem to notice when Coach Lopez made her way over and sat next to her on the couch. Brittany had been expecting her to sit on the couch across from her, but who was she to complain? She then took notice of the fact that Coach Lopez's knees, bare in her skirt, were touching hers. Brittany silently cursed the denim of her jeans between them before coming to a realization.

"I'm sorry, Coach. Did you want me to move over and give you more room to sit?" Brittany breathed. The brunette continued her admiring glaring at the blonde and shook her head. "No, I just thought this might be important, so I just sat closer," the brunette spoke. "Are you okay?" she added in almost an inaudible whisper. "You know you can tell me anything, Britt."

Something about the way Coach Lopez was looking at her made Brittany's heart stop for what Brittany could swear was a full minute. Her coach was now looking at her expectantly. "I just, um…," Brittany choked out, "I needed to tell you something." The coach's face soon turned into worry, making Brittany feel a bit sick about even bothering the coach with this news. She contemplated giving some lame lie that would satisfy the coach and letting them both get home to their vacations, but she knew she couldn't do that. It'd just make things worse later on.

Coach Lopez gave her a look that told Brittany to continue. Brittany averted her eyes to her hands that were wrestling each other awkwardly in her lap.

"Well, with the new regulations about GPAs for student athletes, I don't think that I'll be able to play this season, Coach. I know I should've been trying way harder, but I don't know what happened. I'm really sorry." She finally looked up to see that the coach was only barely half a foot from her. Brittany looked up into her eyes and saw something much different than before. It was something she was unsure she was even seeing. It seemed so much akin to… lust.

"Coach," Brittany said, not being able to move from her frozen position, staring into her coach's chocolate brown eyes, which were only inches from her own shining blue ones, "aren't you mad at me or something?"

The coach finally speaks.

"No, Brittany, I'm not mad," she says, staring into the pools of blue that seem to have her hypnotized. "But I want to help," she says moving impossibly closer. "What seems to be the problem?"

The brunette's eyes seem to have the same effect on her Brittany that the blonde's have on her because she can't seem to look away. Brittany wills a full, coherent sentence to fly out of her mouth, but to no avail. All she can manage to do is mumble, "focus."

Coach Lopez's eyes still haven't left the Caucasian's. "You have trouble focusing?" she almost whispers. Brittany, very audibly, swallows down the nerves in her throat and whispers, "yeah," in a voice as low as her coach's, whose eyes are now raking Brittany's body.

"I can help you with that," the coach whispers.

"Coach—"

"Santana. Call me Santana," the latina breathes huskily. Brittany swallows again.

"Santana," the new name slides off Brittany's tongue almost too easily, "how do you plan to do that?" She looks up into her coach's lust-filled eyes once more before she feels a hand come up to cup her face. "I'll show you," the brunette whispers, her accent much sexier in a lower octave.

Their lips crash together before Brittany can even form a complete thought. She immediately starts kissing back furiously, sliding her tongue across the latina's bottom lip, begging for entrance that is soon granted by the older woman. Their tongues fight for control over each other's mouths, causing low moans to escape both of them. Brittany feels a hand sliding higher on her thigh, and then lower, and finally pulling her leg over to straddle the petite brunette's body. Both of the brunette's hands move to Brittany's waist, then down to her ass, pulling her impossibly closer. She breaks the kiss then whispers into Brittany's ear, "consider this your first lesson."

Before Brittany can even begin to process what this means, she feels Santana's incredibly nimble fingers viciously clawing at the button on her jeans and getting them undone and slightly pulled down. She doesn't even care to make sense of all this. She just wants her coach, the woman who she's been lusting after for the past few years, to grant her release. They lock eyes as the teacher's fingers slip inside Brittany's jeans and past her underwear and begin slowly rubbing her clit, their eyes never leaving each other's. Brittany's hips begin thrusting forward and, all of a sudden, Santana stops. Brittany whines at the loss of contact.

"Brittany, I need you to focus. Don't do anything. Don't react and, especially, don't cum. Got it?" the coach whispers with a serious expression plastered on her face with her, still lust-filled eyes staring back at Brittany. All the blonde could do was nod her head at this. Santana's fingers slipped in once more, rubbing harder than before, making it that much harder for Brittany to refrain from screaming all types of obscenities from the pleasure.

Instead, she held her tongue, biting her lip to be sure she wouldn't slip up. She kept from looking anywhere but up, knowing that watching the woman who was currently putting stars behind her eyes, or looking at the close proximity between them, and especially watching the way the older woman's hand moved in and out of her denim jeans with ease, would surely make her explode.

Santana rubbed harder, now making her strokes circular on Brittany's throbbing clit. She watched the way the blonde beautiful above her bit her lip, almost cumming at the very sight. She closed her eyes and imagined Brittany throwing her roughly onto a bed and stripping away all of her clothes before finally abruptly thrusting her fingers in and out of her wet, needy, dripping—

"Augh!" Brittany screams above her. That sound, coupled with her incredibly vivid fantasy, is almost enough to send Santana over the edge. Her breathing gets harder and she rubs Brittany more furiously, making Brittany gasp at the sudden burst of pleasure rocking through her core. "Focus, Britt," Santana lets out breathily, though she can't even control herself at the moment, so she won't hold it against Brittany… this time.

This sight is truly a spectacle to Santana. She watches Brittany's body wriggle above her, trying so desperately hard to no rock against her fingers for a release that she so obviously craves. Still, as much as this sight is this most beautiful thing Santana has ever seen, she can see what a hard time Brittany is having controlling herself and, frankly, Santana doesn't want her to anymore.

She pulls out of Brittany's jeans, making the girl above her whimper at the loss of friction, while also letting out a sigh of relief at having to contain her pending orgasm. She shoots Santana a questioning look, but before she can ask what's going on, Santana wraps Brittany's legs around her waist and sits her gently on the couch. Well, as gently as she could while trying not to come on the spot just by looking at the out of breath girl under her.

Her hands go straight for Brittany's jeans, pulling them the rest of the way down to her ankles along with her underwear, allowing Brittany to kick them both off. Her eyes glue themselves to the student athlete's amazingly toned, long legs. "Fuck," she says, not being able to control her leering.

Her focus on the perfectly sculpted body in front of her is broken as she realizes that there is much more to the blonde's perfect body for her to explore. She runs her hands from Brittany's ankles up to her inner thighs, feeling every inch of her former student's perfection, or at least a big part of it.

She positions herself above Brittany, letting her face fall into the blonde's neck, inhaling her scent. She begins leaving kisses from the nape of her neck up to her ear and over until she reaches her lips, her tongue immediately begging for entrance. For a few minutes, their lips, tongues, and teeth frantically fight each other, both welcoming and battling each other. They kiss all the air is emptied from their lungs and they can't possibly go another millisecond without oxygen.

Santana pulls away, staring down into Brittany's eyes, brown penetrating blue. She smiles down at the girl under her, her discarded underwear and pants forgotten. Brittany looks up into her coach's eyes, smiling back up at her in the sweetest way and chuckles a little.

"What?" Santana beams.

"How crazy is this?" the blonde gestures to their current state. Santana chuckles a little bit, her smile fading, but still evident in her eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," Santana's eyes trail down Brittany's body and back up to her eyes suggestively, "Do you wanna… finish?" Maybe it's the way Santana practically whispers the last part, or maybe it's the way Santana's biting her lips, staring down at her, but something makes Brittany wrap her arms around Santana's neck and pull her down into a kiss. Santana's hand makes quick work of entering Brittany, building her up until she's on the brink of an orgasm, then stopping completely.

Before an out of breath Brittany can protest, Santana breaks the kiss and moves down her body, her tongue latching onto Brittany's swollen clit. The moan that Brittany lets out is loud and breathy, but she's too deeply enthralled in the pleasure to care.

"S-santana," she breathes.

Santana moans against her clit at the sound of hearing the Brittany say her name in such ecstasy. The vibration is enough to almost send Brittany over the edge. It's not until Santana enters her with two fingers while her tongue works on her clit that Brittany comes hard.

Her breathing is a jagged mess and her sweaty form melts into the couch.

When she finally comes down from her high, Santana pulls out of her, kissing her center one last time and making Brittany gasp. She moves up to kiss Brittany's cheek, down to her neck, and back up with lick the shell of her ear, whispering, "You taste so fucking good." She kisses her way back to her lips, Brittany welcoming her tongue eagerly and enjoying the taste of herself.

Santana pulls away and, after a beat, whispers, "I think you need another lesson."


End file.
